


Gilded Youth

by PurpleFluffyCat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, Angst and Porn, Backstory, Coming of Age, M/M, Porn With Plot, Slash, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-05-12 07:14:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5657419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurpleFluffyCat/pseuds/PurpleFluffyCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Horace Slughorn invites you to sit down and chat. Who knows what secrets he may reveal about golden times, and those we have met and now mourn? This conversation takes places straight after 'Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gilded Youth

Yes, yes, I know, I shouldn't have. Stop looking at me like that!

But what's an old queen to do in such a situation, - Eh? Charm the young man away and take up knitting?

I suppose you'd like to know all about it. Well, why don't you have a seat?

Erm, no actually not there - I need all those the feather cushions for my back you see.

Yes, that's fine. And will you have a glass of wine?

No? Ah well, but you don't mind if I indulge a little though do you? Its a rather fine bottle from a little man I know in Bulgaria; apparently he uses dragon-dung to fertilize the vines and its simply the very best thing for the job.

Ah, but I digress; you wanted to know about young Severus, didn't you?

It all started when rumours about my other job started flying about the school. Goodness knows how it was leaked - it was all supposed to be totally discreet, and unbribable for that matter. I had had the good fortune to make friends with a charming young man called Archibald Dreamstowe, whose mother was a wonderful society hostess and whose father so happened to be a gemstone plutocrat. We met every week for luncheon at the Dragonsbury - that lovely club in central London that the Muggles always fail to notice - near to their Garrit and Foxford and Bambridge ....or something like that....

Anyway, the father was also, as I later discovered, the keeper of the Nimbaulus Register - that much coveted list of the great and good who secretly control the country - or so it's said. At the very least, being on that list guarantees one a golden-hello to a job in the higher echelons of the ministry, some _very_ useful business arrangements, a nice, rich and respectable marriage should one be so inclined, and of course, a steady stream of dizzying receptions, balls and other social engagements. Ostensibly, the list is composed purely of high-class pure-bloods of course, but it was a historical tradition that people occasionally bought their way in, by being a great merchant, or war hero, or so on.

I was lucky of course. My parents - god bless their souls - had been pure-blood and respectable, and although I wasn't born with the proverbial silver spoon in my mouth, that was enough to gain automatic entrance to the Nimbaulus list when I came of age. I quickly learnt the ways of the scene, and after leaving school dived head first into the dizzying world of the Nimby Boys; unstoppable at the height of the 1920s. I met some great friends. Archie was the best of course, and he was beautiful too, with shiny dark hair and smooth, glowing skin. Our times spun together into hours of joyful recklessness - endless hot summers, freezing water at the beach that piqued the body, alcohol-fuelled dancing stretching throughout the night and then lying together, flushed, sated and totally in love.

But, I digress again. Archie's father died unexpectedly. Actually, he was killed - suddenly, and in cold blood by a South American trafficking wizard who resented his firm's hold over the international gemstone market, or so the story goes. In fact, it was later thought - but never proven - that the murderers might have been put up to it by one Abraxas Malfoy - an ambitious young wizard who conveniently pocketed most of the gemstone trade in the ensuing fallout. Naturally, the Dreamstowe family was devastated - on both counts, and they had little time for sentiment or speculation. It only came to light in reading of the will that father Dreamstowe had been the Nimbaulus keeper, and that upon his death he passed the mantle to his only son.

However, Archie didn't want the job - too much hassle, he said, to keep track of all of those society events - so he passed it on to me - all very hush-hush, you must understand.

I was pleased at first. So pleased in fact, that the oddity of his reluctance to take up such an illustrious task went unnoticed by me. I should have realised something was afoot though. He became strangely withdrawn, left parties early, disappeared for weekends without a trace, and made excuses for not coming to bed with me. I missed him terribly, but supposed that it was normal for a boy to grieve for his father. Or perhaps he was being affected by the creeping feeling of trouble that began to come through the air - the menace that would later be known as Grindelwald and was trying to rock the stability of the country; trying to threaten our gilded playground.

Either way I tried to give him some space, or to present a shoulder to cry on. We loved each other, after all, and I was sure that love could survive such trials; I wanted to be there for him. In fact, so confident was I in our love, that the girl came as complete surprise - the girl that I found curled naked about him in the bed that I thought was ours.

The engagement was announced the following week. Archie married into a rich family. I was utterly heartbroken.

Oh, what's that? Severus? Yes, yes, Severus. I know, I know, I'm getting to that bit.

Well, now you know all about my other job, and how secret it was supposed to have been. It was probably the one thing that kept me going after the business with Archie, but then as the world darkened, the duties involved far more note-taking and sending of official letters than wild parties and laughter. This actually suited my mood perfectly. The country became tense; poised on the brink of something our innocent, rosy youth could not understand, and I was almost glad to withdraw from the headying London scene to accept the Potions post at good-old Hogwarts.

At this grand place the years just seem to slip by, you know. We battened down the hatches when Grindelwald was threatening, but luckily the main scenes of that war were played out abroad. I'll always remember the day Albus returned to the castle in the dead of a cold winter night, silently holding the broken remains of the menace's wand. The war was tough at home, but our hearts went out to the poor Bavarian wizards who had to rebuild everything from scratch. One wonders if that is going to happen to us this time around.

 

Mmmmmm........

Where was I? Aha, yes. I've taught some jolly good students over the years! There was young Miss Tabernickle - now the first female head of the International Potions Confederation, Mr. Sproutfly who went on to make a fortune in herbal healing and of course, before you bring him up, the terrifying brilliance of Tom Riddle, who I do _not_ wish to discuss further, if you would be so kind.

Good.

Severus was always quite a prominent one though. I remember meeting him for the first time, when he was sorted into my house - a boy of no more than twelve. He said little, but had a perfect English accent - the kind one acquires on purpose, as if trying to compensate for something; formal and practised until every inflection of the provinces had been eradicated.

His manner seemed mature beyond his years - quiet and contemplative, sparing no energies for unnecessary chin-wagging. On the other hand, he certainly didn't have the stature to go with that! A poor, scrawny little thing, he was, wearing robes that were too big for him and tended to drag on the floor. He was terribly pale and looked underfed - could have done with a jolly good holiday on the beach.

Severus arrived that first day in the Slytherin common room clutching books to his chest like some kind of armour. He quickly scouted the room and made for the furthest, darkest corner, but I tried to be all nice and inclusive and invited him to take a seat on the comfy chairs in the middle. I remember the way he looked at me - calculating, as if deciding whether he could trust. After a long moment he took up the chair I had gestured towards, and a little surge of victory swelled within me - I had started off with this difficult one on the right foot - hurrah!

The young man quickly showed himself to be an excellent student - very quick and alert, and rather ahead of the others, having studied most of the first-year work before he arrived at school. He didn't make life easy for the professors though. He would seldom venture to add contributions to class discussions but if asked directly would recite a perfect potted history of the subject at hand, throwing the teacher's carefully crafted lesson plan totally off the rails. Indeed, several times I was approached by indignant professors in the staff room because instead of completing the set essay, Severus had written a long diatribe about why the particular question was flawed and facile, and suggesting a number of more appropriate alternatives!

He was always alright with me though. Unlike some of the other teachers, I was always careful to set Severus different Potions assignments to the rest of the students - to make sure he wouldn't get bored. Naturally, I gave him a pass for the Restricted Section for that, and pretty much free rein of the Potions classroom out of hours. He made jolly good use of it I think; I do like to try to nurture the talent we have around here. When no-one else was around, he would ask me lots of interesting questions, sometimes coming to my office late at night with an enormous dusty book that seemed to contradict something that was said in a mainstream text. We had lots of interesting chats about the subject, and he gave my brain a bit of a workout - after all, school-teaching does tend to let one's advanced studies go rather rusty!

Severus really excelled you know, and although I might take a little credit for instruction, most of it was natural talent. He seemed to have a sixth sense for potion-making; knowing innately what the finished consistency should be and how to achieve it. He even started to revise the recipes in the set Potions text, making margin notes in his tiny, scratchy writing. I commented on this once, and suggested that he send a list of corrections to the publisher. Severus replied that he saw no reason why other students should benefit from all of his hard work - fair enough, I thought.

I suppose one might say that Severus was my protégé. I certainly taught him more than any other student before or since, but I think the real value was that there was someone willing to take the extra trouble, to listen to his views. It probably helped that I was a Slytherin, but a kind one - a glimpse that ambition didn't have to be nasty. He was more voluble in my company when rapt in a line of argument than I had ever seen him with his peers, and when there was no one else to hear we talked - about the subject, yes, but also about politics, philosophy, and sometimes even just the weather or what might be for dinner. We were very compatible, he and I, and at times like that we seemed very equal with no need for artificial distinctions of rank or authority. 

I told him about my youth; about the golden '20s. Although he never asked direct questions his eyes always seemed wide and eager for more information. I was happy to oblige - I loved to reminisce, but of course I carefully skirted around any painful areas. Speaking with Severus never left the phantom of my beautiful, lost Archie far from my mind.

Of course, I kept inviting young Severus to join my Slug Club - there was a most interesting batch of young witches and wizards at the time who I'm sure he could have got along with in the right circumstances. Pretty Lily Evans who was most talented, James Potter, her sweetheart, whose parents had been quite an influence before they retired and Olori Zabini, that willowy Ethiopian beauty who was certainly destined to break a few hearts in her time. Try as I might though, Severus just wouldn't come along. He made excuses about having work to do, but it became perfectly clear that he didn't want to be put in a social situation with the other students.

I suppose I can understand why he felt uncomfortable. The poor lad had a rather hard time of it with some of the others. His quiet bookishness didn't go down well with the sporty types, especially when he made it perfectly clear that he had no time for those less intelligent than himself. Name-calling and playground hexes often came his way from a pack of Gryffindors, who of course were naturally prejudiced against anyone in Slytherin.

Ironically though, it was the Slytherins he feared most. Blood status was a big issue back then - I guess sometimes it still is now - and his greatest worry was that the other Slytherins would discover that he was a half-blood. When pressed on the issue, I heard Severus maintain that his father was dead, and was the last in a line of Snapes from a quiet part of South West England. In fact, according to Albus, the father was a Muggle, still alive and a reclusive alcoholic prone to bursts of violence.

His story kept the Slytherins satisfied most of the time, but Severus was a convenient target for acts of bored barbarity. Lucius Malfoy - the well-bred son of our supposed murderer, Abraxas - was ice-blond and beautiful and particularly cruel. I had tried to keep a very close eye on Lucius during his time at Hogwarts - at first trying to extend a fatherly nurture to the poor lad that was surely lacking at home. He repaid this badly. I remember finding Severus once, aged about fifteen, alone at night in the Potions classroom removing filth that had been kicked all over him by his house-mates - mud for a mud-blood, as they were speculating.

Severus wouldn't speak about it, but thanked me tersely when I taught him a better cleaning charm and bid me good night with gratitude in his eyes. It made me feel special; he would have hexed anyone else to kingdom-come at that moment, but let me stay and help, however silently. I suppose I have a soft-spot for feeling I can make a difference, especially to someone who is so self-reliant.

I omitted to invite Mr. Malfoy to my parties from then on. Perhaps that was foolish, but I felt strongly.

That night, Severus really blossomed - although granted, the romance was probably firmly in the eye of the beholder, as it were. I admired his strength and determination as I thought that secretly, Severus was intensely proud of his half-blood status. I had suspected that all along, and knew for certain when I saw the Potions textbook he had begun to treat as a journal - left to one side once in the classroom while he was stirring a brew very intently. He signed himself, 'The Half Blood Prince'. Curious really - the way the title emphasises both his mother's lineage and his mongrel condition - but he is a dichotomy. I think that to Severus, being half-blood meant that whatever he had accomplished he had done all by himself - with pure talent and cunning and no birth privileges. He felt as if he had duped the system; risen above that which had gone before.

Of course, during all this time at Hogwarts the Nimbaulus Register was still going strong. In the locked secrecy of my inner sanctum I religiously checked the big metal-bound book every week, to see what piece of society news, gossip or eligibility had been magically inscribed therein, then meticulously sent out correspondence to all relevant parties on crested parchment. Goldie, my lovely, majestic Eagle Owl - who comes as part of the package by the way - flew forth into the night bearing the happy news. The whole thing still gives me a little thrill, you know! It felt so wonderful to know that by lucky chance I was the only one who got to see all of this, to view the whole picture of society rather than just the pieces that doled out one at a time!

The pure-blood ones from the various generations of my little Slug Club all ended up on the Nimbaulus Register when they came of age, along with several others from the respective year who were quite unremarkable but had the right birth. I made sure to keep in touch with the successful ones of less distinguished heritage as well though - everyone with a brain realises that one must keep abreast of both sides of the blood-fence to really know the movers and shakers, as it were.

The Nimby social side really wasn't what it used to be by then though, at least among the youngsters. We seasoned sorts still had plenty of fun - jolly good dinners and what-not every few months. I even took a lover or two, though nothing serious; not too keen on being hurt again I suppose. Anyway, the new recruits seemed all too serious, too distracted to really be dazzled and let the world wash over them as we had in my day. Perhaps it was that creeping unrest again, making everyone wary. But it was different this time; with Grindelwald the world just felt subdued, whereas in the 70's it felt hard and cynical. I think that our age of exuberance is lost to time now; finally lit and gone when the young took too many drugs, pushed too far, made things sour. The young had no youth left.

Anyway, enough of my social philosophy. Back to the story, shall we?

Mmmmmm, yes... By his sixth year, Severus was beginning to look really quite delicious. Though I think that was just my opinion - the finer points of his impressionistic aestheticism were most probably lost on his colleagues. Such strong features would never be pretty, but they were certainly arresting, and the inky black curtain of hair just added to the mystery of what lay beneath. His hands too! - they were hypnotic. Such long, pale fingers that moved with perfect precision of movement and pressure - enough to give any admiring chap thoughts about their more entertaining applications, I can tell you.

Actually, as Severus matured, he began to remind me painfully of Archie - the young love who had so cruelly been taken from me. The slight build and the quiet manner were the same, but Severus was darker and seemed much older despite being only sixteen. He was as Archie might have been then if I could have preserved him in drying herbs and spices for fifty years - still young, but somehow dessicated. In that way, I suppose they were both fitting specimens for their times.

You must realise here however, that although I am perfectly candid about appreciation of my young charges, I would never - I mean, never - do anything but gaze from afar. 'Look but don't touch' - that's my motto. What happened next was indeed a perfect aberration.

Something about the Nimbaulus register was leaked in the Autumn of '76. Of course, those who had privileged information tended to get twitchy as their seventeenth birthdays approached, waiting and wondering about the near-mythical letter of invitation. But this time, specific information seemed to have got out, and I was being plagued by enquiries and speculations. Some were innocent and childish. Some were delivered anonymously and hinted at my imminent death.

Clearly, it could have been dangerous. In the eighteenth century a whole family of successive Nimbaulus keepers were murdered by a fiercely aspirant clan who didn't reach the mark, and whenever the identity of the keeper has been revealed since, the situation has resulted in threats at the very least. I was worried. Having survived one war with another on the way, being killed over the Register would have been unpleasantly ironic.

I took to checking the book every day for signs of tampering, but there were none. I considered whether Goldie had been followed, but with the number of obscurement charms surrounding her every feather, that seemed as unlikely as ever. I wondered who the source could have been, but was puzzled - the only person who knew about my keepership was Archie; my long-estranged, darling, golden Archie; my beautiful Archie who was now an old man like me; my Archie whose wealthy wife had just signed a trading pact with the Malfoy gemstone import company, so I read. At that, everything fell sickeningly into place. I considered the murdering plutocrat Abraxas and his son who had lost my favour. There was of course no proof, but a trail of intimidation had by then become the unspoken Malfoy business trademark and I was loathe to be a victim. Lucius Malfoy received his Nimbaulus invitation pretty soon after that, I can tell you.

I thought that I was safe then, and in the traditional sense of the word, I suppose I was. Of course, the rumours bubbled in the common room for months, and plenty of students kept asking whether I kept the Nimbaulus Register. I became quite practised at dishing out an answer along the lines of, "Do I look like the sort of man who could keep a secret that large?" at which point the brighter ones gave me a calculating look and decided that no, good-old Sluggy couldn't possibly restrain himself from letting that slip, so they were probably wrong, after all.

 

Mmmmmmm......yes.......

It happened on a cold January night, sufficiently late for all Christmas cheer to have been wiped clean from the memory but far too early for any promise of spring. I had been to dinner as usual and then to the professor's drawing room for a snifter or three with Albus and Filius and whoever else might be there. I walked back to my rooms as icy rain ran down the window panes, and entered to find Severus laying naked on my bed. He was face down and alabaster smooth, his perfect, white round bottom shining upwards in invitation.

When he heard me enter my chamber, Severus propped his chin onto an elbow and half turned. He said, 'Good evening Professor. I have always liked you. I thought this evening you might like to have me,' in his clear, matter-of-fact tone. My breath caught, and I was transfixed. I was stupefied; aware only of a sudden desperate need that throbbed in my groin. Severus must have regarded me for moment, and then he arched slightly backwards onto his knees, showing how the muscles of his legs stretched and flexed and causing his cheeks to part slightly.

I was totally overcome. The sane, professorial part of my brain was shouting for me to stop, to escape and cease this encounter immediately, but that voice seemed distant, muffled and powerless. Instead, I was under the spell of the pale siren before me. I was enraptured, and seemed to be moving forward as if in a trance, slowly extending a hand to his glowing flesh.

Reverently, I touched his hip, and then allowed the other hand to join and glide across the smooth expanse of his back. Severus undulated into my touch in encouragement which immediately made me ravenous for more. My hands roamed over his body then at a greater pace, tangling in his thick black hair, skimming across his lean thighs, and underneath to his stomach that was tiny and flat because he was so thin, but its flesh was charmingly tender and soft because he disdained sports. This delicate underbelly made him seem somehow vulnerable, somehow innocent, and made me all the more want to have him as him mine to take care of.

My stroking continued, gathering pace. I was drunk on sensation and the joy of this gift, but in the back of my mind knew there had to be an ulterior motive. A doubting voice was whispering that Severus surely had no interest in me as I stood there, crouched over him and absorbing his every scent with my nose and lips. I fought against that thought, but even so my hand slipped down fatalistically to his cock to find the truth, expecting a polite flaccidity. To my rapture, I was wrong. He was long and rock-hard, and even allowed his steely self-discipline to slip as he moved his hips into my touch. At that, I became a man deranged with desire. My hands and mouth roamed his body with desperate hunger, cradling his tight balls and slipping a finger between the cheeks of his glorious arse.

I discovered that he was already slick with lubricant, and the sensation of the moisture on my fingers was too much to resist; I had to have more. I shed my clothes in an instant and freed my cock with great relief, slipping it into Severus' slick crevice and positioning myself at his entrance. Severus was beautifully tight, but oh, so eager. He pushed backwards onto me like a stretching cat and met each of my frenzied thrusts as I clutched his hips and pounded into him with desperate ecstasy.

I must have climaxed as quickly as a teenager. I was lost to the white-hot waves of orgasm, and slowly became aware of the fact that I was collapsed in a bundle with Severus, and he also was spent. His body looked relaxed, but I dared not look to his face. Instead, I silently cast a cleaning charm upon us both, turned out the light and said that we should sleep. Severus made no argument. I knew there were so many fresh problems and dreadful unanswered questions that would have to be tackled, but in that glorious afterglow I didn't want to face them. I simply wanted to hold my spectral love and when I dreamed, I was a young man hugging Archie to my breast and weeping.

Severus left in the morning, before I had woken. When I came to, I felt trammelled, dizzy and bereft, and then the enormity of what I had done struck like a cold bolt of ice. I was prepared for the worst - disciplinary hearings, sacking, possibly Wizengamot charges. There was nothing I could do to escape. I dressed simply and went to breakfast as usual - to meet my fate before it could meet me, I suppose.

However, all seemed well. Albus made his typical over-cheery early morning greeting, and an elf served me porridge with honey and crystallised pineapple, as always. The Slytherins filed in to the Hall, and among them was Severus, alone, in neat student robes and reading a large book, just as he did every morning. During breakfast he looked nowhere other than his plate and his text, and he seemed so distant, in an utterly different world from me. I was seriously beginning to wonder whether my memories of the previous night had been planted in my mind, or could have been the hallucinogenic result of a bad batch of larva-gin.

I ate my breakfast by habit, and surfaced from abstracted thoughts only when the kerfuffle of owl-post disturbed the room. There was some excitement on the Slytherin table as someone had received a howler - the students have always made a terrible fuss over those things. My interest was piqued only when I saw that Severus was the recipient. He looked displeased, but swiftly opened the red envelope without creating a scene. In contrast to the usual parental ranting of these occasions however, a small and delicate female voice simply said, 'Congratulations on your seventeenth birthday Severus, from your mother.'

Well, at that point, it all became obvious. Mystery solved.

Unlike most of his comrades, Severus had seen through my bonhomie and bluff denials, and he knew the rumours were true - that I was indeed the Nimbaulus keeper. However, in coming to me the previous night, Severus didn't realise two things. Firstly, that it actually takes over a week for the Nimbaulus book to register a new entry, so his profferance was too late, and secondly that I had already decided to bend the rules for him anyway.

The fuss surrounding Severus' disappointingly polite howler had died away, and I noticed his hands then went to a discreetly unmarked envelope that I knew all too well. Upon reading the contents, he closed his eyes in quiet relief - he would now be assumed a pure-blood. I thought this admission would ease the persecution and might afford him dignity and a chance of success. I only realised later that it would probably save his life.

The meal finished and Severus rose to leave, still clutching his book. I like to think that the tiny nod of acknowledgement in my direction was real and not imagined by me.

To this day, I really don't know what Severus made of our _encounter_ , as it were. Of course, the realist would probably say that it was cold expediency and payment, nothing more.

But for me, it wasn't.

It was only after that episode that I realised how my heart had been locked away - most probably in the same big, gold-studded chest that houses the Register and all the trappings of the time I was young, happy and carefree. Somehow - perfectly inadvertently, I'm sure - Severus had unlocked all of those distantly-archived feelings. Perhaps it was his talent, backbone, determination and ridiculous intellect. Perhaps it was because he had trusted me enough to let me make a difference. Perhaps it was just the way his dark hair fell over his delicate pale skin. In any case, I realised that I had fallen in love.

Of course, it was a love that could bring scant happiness. At times, I felt unformed and laughable, knowing full-well that Severus had reawakened and claimed that ancient, child-like love I had once been able to feel - so out of place in a mind and body that had been weathered by long life and tough experience. It seemed absurd that deep-down I wanted Severus - who was so much my junior - to embrace me and take care of me; to tell me that everything was going to be alright. I knew my love could only be a destructive emotion but I kindled it as a precious thing nevertheless, with every glance, every memory. It was a love that had to be perfectly repressed and given rein only in dream time and silence. Then I was free and I belonged to Severus; we walked through life hand in hand and we two estranged souls would never be lonely again.

 

Mmmmmm......What's next?

Oh yes.

I don't know when Severus became a legilimens but it was certainly a shock when he did. You see, after the first encounter, Severus had begun to feature rather heavily in my fantasies - quite understandably, I think you'd agree.

It was nearly the end of Severus' last year, and not a word has passed between us about our night together in the intervening months. The relationship had reverted to purely student and master, and although Severus had not sought me out for any in-depth discussions, things were cordial enough. I was covering a revision class for History of Magic because Professor Binns was indisposed... I'm not quite sure how a ghost _can_ be indisposed, but there you go. The topic was ancient Mayan magic and after a lively class discussion, watching the students at their note-taking had given way to a rather agreeable daydream featuring Severus in traditional Mayan costume, and not much of it. I reclined in my chair and lazily drank in the sight from my mind's eye, when all of a sudden the real Severus looked up from his parchment, locked my gaze, and whipped around my thought, clean as a whistle! It was all over terribly quickly. I felt myself blushing scarlet and saw the tiniest of smirks cross his beloved face before returning to his parchment as if nothing had happened.

Naturally, I was embarrassed, but comforted myself with the thought that Severus would be leaving the school in a matter of days, and given that the other business went unreported, this was likely to as well. After all, I had dealt with worse in life than boy-to-boy awkwardness.

Exam-season came and went, and Severus and his cohorts had nearly finished their time in Hogwarts. It was a quiet afternoon in the castle as all of the students were frolicking in Hogsmeade. Well, nearly all that is. I was strolling along the main third floor passageway when Severus suddenly emerged from a side-corridor and fell into step with me. He simply said, "Come with me, Professor," and slipped his hand into mine, holding calmly and evenly without any drama or fuss. I smiled at him and nodded mutely, and he returned the look with a rare glimpse of understanding and openness. Suddenly any differences between us were stripped away - those of teacher and student, old and young, dreamer and victim.

His cool, slender hand felt perfect in my grasp and in that single, quiet moment I felt more buoyant and happy than I can possibly tell you. I was a young man sauntering with my loved one on the shores of a bountiful ocean in a world of optimism and sunlight. The shadows that skulked at the edge of our world had gone, and the threat of evil and war had miraculously been wiped away. Isn't it amazing how fanciful one's mind can be?

Severus led me up four flights of stairs to a door that I didn't closely recall. He paused before opening it in a slightly theatrical fashion and then led inside to display a magical vista featuring the most amazing acts of illusion and transfiguration. To all appearances, we had stepped into an exotic paradise. The air was tropically warm and moist with a faint scent of perfume and spices. To one side lay a forest clearing, the edges thick with unusual plant-life, and to the other lay a white sandy beach where the brightest azure sea gently lapped.

Severus was clearly content with my awed wonderment, and he went on to say,"Professor? This is your gift by way of thanks. Thanks, that is, for giving me the chances I needed, for teaching me everything I wanted to know, and for overlooking my blood."

"Severus, dear boy," I said, "it was my very pleasure!", and I jovially insisted that no great gesture of thanks were needed while waffling on at great length about what trouble he had gone to and how talented he must be to create all of this. At that, a mischievous glint entered his dark eyes, and Severus informed me that I had not yet seen all of my present. I raised my eyebrows in genuine surprise, and at that, he produced his wand and transfigured his clothes into the very image of the beautiful Mayan Severus-fantasy that he had seen in my mind. He was perfectly naked apart from a richly-embroidered loincloth that was scandalously skimpy at the sides and slightly extended in pleats at the front and back to preserve a little modesty, as it were. His hair was tied back with twine to reveal more of his pale, smooth neck, and his wrists and ankles were adorned with long golden cuffs that glinted in the tropical sunlight.

Severus allowed himself a self-satisfied smirk as I imagine I was positively drooling on the floor - it was as if all my Christamasses and birthdays had come at once! He asked whether I would like to _join him_ as it were, and I imagine he interpreted my dazed grin as a 'yes'. Within a second, I found that my clothes had been transfigured into a dressing gown of the finest silk, and Severus was stalking toward me, extending his arms to embrace me. As I felt his touch, I was suddenly snapped from my trance and responded with happy eagerness, running my hands along the smooth planes of his svelte body, and delighting in the fact that he seemed keen to hold me in return.

Severus withdrew for a second, then started to pull at the cord of my dressing gown. I felt slightly embarrassed at first; slightly old and ridiculous alongside this amazing, exotic creature, but then decided to disregard it. Well, I was quite handsome back then, even though I do say so myself, - we wizards tend to keep our looks. I had sandy hair with a good wave to it, nice broad, strong shoulders, reasonably muscular legs, and had been told I was more than adequately endowed where it matters. He glanced at me all over and then smiled, gesturing toward an enormous pile of silk cushions in peacock, cerise and purple that had just appeared on the ground, then told me to relax.

Relax! Well, that was a rather comic instruction in the circumstances, but I did my best to oblige, sinking deeply into the soft feathery mass below. Severus was clearly amusing himself greatly with this entire scene - it was rather his style to plan everything so carefully and keep the upper hand. I didn't mind in the slightest though, it was such a happy treat to let someone else take control. My mind had little room for anything but overwhelming love and joy with a very heavy mist of lust.

After a moment, he reappeared seated at my side holding a bowl of the most delicious-smelling spiced melted chocolate - straight from the Mayan kitchen, I imagine - with a platter of colourful exotic fruit. He sensually fed me an enrobed piece of pineapple, dipping his fingers teasingly into my mouth as he did so. Then followed some mango and passion-fruit in the same manner, complete with 'accidentally' spilled chocolate that he licked from my lips and hardening nipples. I reached out to him then, offering some active reciprocation but was answered by a polite refusal and the insistence that I should simply lay back and let him take care of things. All was really quite delicious, and I was content for the happy scene to play out at its own sedate pace, never wanting the moment to end. It was as if I was almost afraid to go against any of Severus' suggestions, somehow fearing that the slightest stubbornness would break the fairy tale.

Once he had sated my eyes and taste-buds Severus began an exquisite onslaught on my sense of touch. His light fingers drew lines along my throat - which I bared to him willingly - and painted circles across my shoulders and collarbones. He followed these ministrations with his mouth, licking and sucking my most sensitive areas as if he instinctively knew where to find them and awakening memories of the touches of a long-departed lover within my flesh. I was so lost to the moment and felt almost extravagant in my powerlessness.

Severus' talented lips roamed my chest and found a nipple; clearly encouraged by the sharp gasp he caused as his tongue rasped against the sensitive nub. He spread his hands to hold my sides and then he began to knead more firmly, gently massaging my rounded stomach as the last of the chocolate slipped down. Well, I _have_ always been rather on the plump side, but he actually seemed to like that - holding and grasping and burying his face in my torso; luxuriating in the solidity of my body like a desperate castaway who had just found land.

His touches then became bolder, and moved downwards. My eyes fluttered shut as I felt perfect white fingers ghosting between my legs, teasing the sensitive skin of my inner thighs. I spread my legs wider, by now feeling terribly wanton and having long thrown any abashedness to the wind. His hands moved upwards to gently touch my balls and perineum - almost with a sense of reverence, as if he had not been allowed to explore in quite this way before.

My arousal was almost unbearable by this point, and when Severus sealed his mouth over the head of my cock, I was practically unravelling at the seams. My muffled cries must have inarticulately conveyed this fact, and he withdrew and prepared to turn around and offer himself to me as he had done that first evening. However, I stopped him and said that I wanted to feel him inside me.

Severus became almost totally still and regarded me with a guarded amazement. To answer his doubts I drew him to me and kissed him deeply on the lips, drinking in his distinctive taste of musk and midnight. I loved that boy with body and soul, and all my years of weathered experience meant nothing when I simply wanted him to possess me. I wanted us to exist together in a parallel plane, where the pressures of life, decorum and people did not exist. When our lips parted, his eyes seemed somehow illuminated, as if prepared to embark upon untrodden territory.

Severus picked up a small pot of lubricant and liberally coated his rather impressive length. Then he took a dollop of the jelly to my bared entrance and it was all I could do not to squirm into the touch, so eager as I was to be taken. He positioned himself above me and slipped inside. I imagine I was pretty tight given a lack of recent _interaction_ , as it were, and Severus certainly seemed to be enjoying the sensation as much as I was. His breath came in short bursts and the thick black curtain of his hair flocked before his eyes and tickled my throat as he thrust forwards. His body seemed taut with sinews strung like a bow, and as he moved I clung to his lithe form as if my soul depended upon it.

The muscles on the inside of my legs were straining, but I tipped myself yet further back, opening my body even wider to Severus. My athleticism was rewarded as his wonderful cock caught the perfect angle - brushing its head against my prostrate and sending any residual concious thought away from my mind. The world had contracted to simply myself and Severus and our elysian joining. A moment later, he wrapped his fingers around me and I was lost to fiery waves of orgasm. Barely seconds later I felt his body stiffen and my darling boy came inside me, his face clenched and beaded with perspiration. I cannot conceive of a more beautiful closeness.

Severus seemed exhausted and spent and he lay down on the pile of somewhat disarranged cushions at my side. We were companionably silent for quite some time, gazing upward to the tropically blue sky. It was simultaneously tangible and concrete and totally the substance or farce and fancy. I tried to just revel in the moment, but so many questions gnawed at my mind.

I decided I had to know, so I slowly sat up and simply asked, "Severus, why?"

He was terribly inscrutable at first, insisting that as he said, he felt he owed me a lot, as a teacher, head of house, mentor etcetera, etcetera, and wanted to say thank you. I smiled kindly, but raised my eyebrows to show that I was clearly not convinced. I asked again. He wavered for a moment and then looked down, not to the floor but past it, somewhere only his eyes could focus.

Quietly, in a strangled voice that was choked with the tears that he dare not cry, Severus said the following:

"Because I wanted to. Because I trust you. Lucius was young and attractive and cruel. He hurt me. He said I deserved it. You are warm and soft and safe. You might care about me. You help me to feel. You can remember a time of happiness, I can feel it through your skin. I want to know what that was like and taste it, just for a second, because I know that I will never be able to be happy."

With that, Severus slowly removed one of the glistening golden cuffs from his wrist and exposed his forearm to me. The Dark Mark pulsated underneath his clear white skin with sickening menace, and I felt suddenly numb and bereaved.

He got up, transfigured his clothes back to the standard black robes and quietly made for the door. Before leaving, he bent and kissed me gently on the lips. He said "Goodbye Horace. Thank you for showing me the closest thing I will ever know to love."

Then he was...gone.

 

Snnffff....snfff, snff.......

Glllppp. 

Snnfff...

 

What, me? No, no, I'm just fine. It's rather dusty in here, don't you find? Tends to get in the eyes and make them water - if you could just pass me a tissue? Yes, thanks. 

 

Good.

Well, suffice to say that was the last time I saw Severus. He always remained in my mind though - the bewitching, dark and beautiful creature he was.

Naturally, I was also stricken to learn what had become of my beloved Nimbaulus Register - perverted from its innocence and hospitality into little more than a Death Eater recruitment gang; how our beautiful club of gilded youth and honest business lay used and corrupted. It seems I had become too distant as an administrator in my ivory tower to see it mutate - to notice the evil creep in and turn everything sour. I later discovered that my old chums in London had been quick to disappear from Nimby events and make a secret of their membership, wanting no part of Voldemort's dealings. If only someone had told me sooner.

I couldn't actually blame myself for Severus' fate, however much the fatalistic, guilt-hungry part of my character tried to. The truth is, he was already far too swallowed up in the whole nasty business to do anything but join them. Far from indoctrinating him into the Death Eaters, the Nimbaulus invitation merely repealed him from his own execution. He had been gambling horrific odds with his claims that he was in fact a pure-blood; that he was worthy to be one of _them_. He had needed the Nimbaulus invitation on his seventeenth birthday to prove his story was true or would have faced dire consequences as a traitor and a liar.

This part of the story has never sat quite firmly with me. It was so unlike him to leave his fate precariously in the balance; to leave our tryst until the very night before he needed the reprieve and to never be clear about what exactly he was bargaining for. Perhaps he had trusted me far more than was actually reasonable. Or perhaps he had actually wanted to die. 

Two weeks after losing Severus I did something that at one time I would have found unthinkable - I closed the Nimbaulus Register. I informed the members that all Nimbaulus events were cancelled until further notice and that no new members would be initiated in the meantime. I locked away the big magical book in its chest then placed the chest into one of the castle's ever-shifting oubliettes. I even removed the charms from Goldie and let her fly free. It hurt like hell, I can tell you, but it hurt more to think of the way my beloved Register would otherwise be used. It was the one thing I could do to help against the spread of evil, and for that I was willing to remain shuttered inside the castle for protection, or to run like a fugitive whenever I ventured out.

One day, I hope I will reopen it. Then again, perhaps I should just add that to the long list of dreams of a foolish old man.

Of course, I knew that Severus had been pardoned and went back to Hogwarts to teach after the first war; ironically, he had my old job. Albus was known as the world's greatest sorcerer for not only the magic he could work with a wand, but with the heart and soul too. He believed Severus had turned against the Death Eaters, and with that, the world believed Albus; no questions asked.

By then, I was gone from the castle and ready to start my retirement in peace. I could have tried to talk to the new Potions master, perhaps even to rekindle something, but a force within me baulked at the idea - all was lost to the cruel ravages of time, and the best I could do was consign the motions of my heart to the cold, hard box of my yellowing dreams. Even when I returned to Hogwarts this last year, I never really spoke to Severus. There was nothing left to say; all had decayed and old wounds could not stand reopening.

Every hero has his weakness, and with his enormous talent and bravery Albus was always so keen to see the good in people, even when it wasn't really there. Such a pity his charity was to cost him his life.

I grieved Albus' death as did we all, but I also felt strangely detached, registering no other betrayal. My beloved Severus had died years before, when I first saw the skull and snake upon his arm.

Aagh, my darling Severus. So good, and yet so bad. Stolen. Taken from me. Sold not to a woman, but to a monster.

Perhaps one day, we snatched boys will dance together in heaven; young, untroubled and with the golden light in which we should have lived. Or perhaps no such balm will come to my silly, broken old heart.

 

Well, its late, we should retire.

And, if I don't see you again, best of luck to you and yours in the war and all that. Horrible business; one never knows who will be stolen next.

Goodnight.


End file.
